


Bacon and Legs

by Sparrowhawke (LoathsomeSinner)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, FTM, First Aid, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, GSW, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M/FTM, Multi, Orgasm Control, Strap-Ons, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoathsomeSinner/pseuds/Sparrowhawke
Summary: Hart gets a reminder that he doesn't have to go it alone.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Bacon and Legs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EffingEden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/gifts).



Maynard had long ago gotten over the surprise of coming home to find Hart sleeping inside. There was no sign of him entering, of course. The door was still locked, all the windows were closed. The only thing that ever hinted at his sudden arrival were the occasional pieces of origami scattered about. There wasn’t one this time.

In fact he didn’t even notice Hart was there for a while, he’d come home after work, gone and got himself food, watched tv for a while, then headed off to bed to find him asleep, curled up in the blankets. Whatever he’d been up to this time it must have worn him out quite a bit for him not to wake up as soon as Maynard had gotten home.

Although he’d gotten over the surprise of finding him like this, he didn’t think he would stop being relieved any time soon. Sometimes Hart just... Went missing. Often times a little voice in the back of his head whispered that it was for the last time. That he might not ever even have a body return, or know what had happened.

He sighed to himself, and stripped out of his clothes, putting on the pair of sweatpants that served as his pajamas. He then lifted the covers just enough to get into bed, positioning himself as the bigger spoon despite Hart being significantly taller than himself. The man shifted a little, but didn’t wake. Maynard let himself fall asleep as well, wondering if Hart would still be there in the morning.

* * *

As it turned out, he was. Not in the same position as before, though whether or not he’d woken up and gone back to sleep Maynard didn’t know for sure. Hart was slippery, and Maynard had had a long day. It was good to see him there, though. Good to have his warmth.

The first sign that something was wrong was the moment Hart’s eyes fluttered open. There was always more truth there than he liked there being, in the brief flash of waking. A brief hint of confusion, clear exhaustion despite how long he must have been sleeping. Underneath both the soft strain of pain. These were things Maynard was used to seeing when he first came back, though. He could let it go without comment, most of the time.

“Hey, Shorty.”

The second sign was one that Maynard was sure frustrated Hart to no end that he could see. He knew when Hart was lying, knew subtle tells in the way his voice changed, the curve of his smile. Hart was a good liar, as good at that as he was in sneaking into places he shouldn’t be. If Maynard weren’t as observant as he was, didn’t care in the ways he did, it would slip passed easily. 

Of course, the greeting wasn’t technically a _lie_ , but the casual ease with which he said it was. The fact that he’d used something that he knew would antagonise Maynard was suspicious as well. He was hiding something. Maynard’s brow had time to crease just a little before Hart was moving, deflecting the suspicion, as he often tried to do.

“I’ll get us something to eat.”

The third sign was in the way he moved. A subtle mixture of forced fluidity and hidden tension. More pain than he’d thought, then.

Maynard moved quickly, the last wisps of sleep-fog disappearing in a moment, and grabbed Hart’s wrist. Not hard, Hart could have pulled away if he wanted to, but he was caught by Maynard’s attention just as much as the hand.

“Hart.”

The fourth sign, as if he needed any more, came with Hart’s response.

“ _Breakfast,_ Maynard. You really should eat before any rigorous physical activity.”

They both knew that wasn’t why Maynard had stopped him, but it would have been bullshit even if it _had_ been. Hart was, in his experience, not that difficult to get into bed after a long trip. Not unless something had shaken him. Or...

“Show me”

Hart opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again when he saw the glower sent his way. He sighed, gently pulling his hand away so that he could do so. His hands went to the hem of his pants, but hesitated, lingering there for a moment.

“It’s really not that ba-”

“Now.”

Another, deeper sigh, and his eyes weren’t meeting Maynard’s anymore. Maynard tried to keep the worry out of his expression, though he knew he was far worse at that than Hart. His stomach tightened when he saw the bandage, badly applied and showing the hint of blood underneath. A gunshot wound, he suspected, in the outer meat of Hart’s thigh.

“I’m _fine_ , Maynard.” Hart found himself ignored as the smaller man shifted out of bed to follow him, staring intently at the wound. “Went straight through, barely even felt it.”

Maynard’s frown deepened and he reached to touch the bandage lightly, Hart didn’t flinch.

“Did you do this yourself?”

“Are you asking if I shot myself?” Maynard didn’t _have_ to look up at him to know he was grinning, but he sent a quick glare upwards anyway.

“The bandage, idiot.”

“Maybe.”

Maynard gave a deep sigh of his own, walking around the bed to get to his bedside table. He pulled out his phone and started dialing, pausing to raise an eyebrow in Hart’s direction as the man took a half step towards him.

“Relax, dumbass, I’m not calling an ambulance.”

Hart did relax, and Maynard had to bite his tongue. There were always questions in his mind when Hart disappeared, wondering what the fuck he was _doing_ but those answers never came if he pushed. If Hart was going to tell him, he’d do it on his own. That reaction answered at least one, though. Whatever it was this time, it hadn’t exactly been legal. To be fair Maynard hadn’t really expected it to be.

“....Who... _Are_ you calling, then?”

“Shavi.”

Hart made a strange noise, then, almost like a kicked puppy. Clearly he hadn’t wanted Shavain to find out either. Probably why he hadn’t gone to him in the first place. Maynard held back another sigh and turned his attention to the voice on the phone.

“Mmm... You’re lucky I like you, Maynard, the sun is still very much awake and I don’t want to be.”

“Can you come over?”

Shavain must have heard the tension in his voice, because the lazy drawl immediately switched to something more attentive.

“Yeah, what do you need?”

“Anything you would use to dress a gunshot wound. Outer thigh. At least 12 hours old.”

“....Hart?”

Maynard made brief eye contact with Hart just before his slow, guilty shuffle finally freed him from the room.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in about half an hour. Pin him down if you have to.”

Maynard _hoped_ that he wouldn’t have to, but he could never be entirely sure. Hart’s motives were questionable at best, unpredictable at times. But hopefully the fact that both Maynard and Shavain now _knew_ about it, he wouldn’t run to try and hide it.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Maynard left the room, following the sounds from the kitchen to lead him back to Hart. The man seemed cheerful enough, but at least now he was showing it a little more. Favouring the leg, but still standing. Cooking. Trying to placate.

Maynard sighed and stepped in behind him, wrapping his arms around Hart’s waist, careful to avoid any pressure near his leg. He would have liked to bury his head in Hart’s shoulder, but he supposed his shoulder _blades_ would have to do. He wasn’t about to ask Hart to crouch for him.

Hart paused for a moment at the touch, then kept going. Maynard could hear his heart now, though, and it was beating too fast for him to be properly calm.

“I get why you tried to hide it, I do. I’m not mad. But I will be if you do it again.”

A slight falter, then a pause.

“...I need to grab the eggs.”

Maynard gave him a soft squeeze before pulling back, retreating to a chair to watch him.

“Get enough for Shavi too, you know he’ll bitch if he smells food and doesn’t get any.”

Hart snorted at that, which helped.

“I know I can’t keep you out of trouble. I’ve made my peace with that.” He had, mostly. As much as he could. “But I won’t lie and say I’m not scared shitless most of the time. And you know that. So you want to try and hide any reminders that you might be in danger. Sound about right?”

An awkward silence, a hint of a nod that could have been mistaken for a twitch.

“It’s not like seeing these sorts of things is going to fill me with confidence. But I’m going to feel a hell of a lot better if you tell me about it than if you go getting an infection and dying on me. You don’t have to tell me everything. I don’t even care if I hear about it through Shavi. I’m guessing that’s part of the reason why you didn’t go to him in the first place.”

Not a nod this time but a soft exhalation of breath, like a sigh of defeat.

“I promise you he’s going to feel exactly the same way, when he gets here. We want you to be able to come to us when you need it, even if it hurts a bit.”

There was a long stretch of silence, only filled by the sounds of Hart cooking. Eventually he caved.

“ _Alright_ , Maynard. I’ll try.”

Not quite a promise never to do it again, but Maynard trusted that he at least meant he _would_ try. He stood again, a hint of a grin appearing on his own face.

“Good, you can start by sitting down and resting your leg. I’ll finish cooking.”

Hart turned to him with an expression of betrayal and disbelief that Maynard had managed to use his words against him in such a way. Maynard just raised an eyebrow at him, taking the spatula and using it to point at the chair. There was grumbling as Hart limped his way over and sat, but it helped to relieve some of the tension of their talk, so that was just fine by Maynard.

* * *

Shavain made it there in less than half an hour. No doubt he was as worried as Maynard still was, under the surface. Probably more, given that he hadn’t been able to see him yet, still alive, still walking (or at least, he would be if he was allowed). 

It had taken a little getting used to, but Maynard knew that Shavi loved Hart just as much as he did, and he was grateful for that. An extra pair of eyes to keep watch over the idiot. Extra support, too, if he would actually let them help.

Shavain came in without knocking, and Maynard heard him click the lock shut after him. Hart was tense again, but Maynard had expected that. He picked up his coffee and took a slow sip before calling out.

“Come and have something to eat first, Shavi, he’s not going anywhere.”

He made eye-contact along with that statement, using a few of his own tricks to make sure that was truth. A hint of heat, that didn’t need to be forced. He hadn’t seen Hart in weeks, after all. And frankly, he liked to reward ‘good’ behaviour. Like agreeing to listen. Besides, now that Shavi was here some of the rest of Maynard’s tension was bleeding away. Shavain would know how to deal with it.

There was a flash of red as Shavain poked his head into the room, looking at the pair of them suspiciously. The rest of his body soon appeared as well, and he placed the bag he was holding down on the floor. Hart didn’t look around.

Not surprisingly to Maynard, but maybe to Hart, Shavain made a beeline for him. His arms wrapped around his shoulders and he leaned down to place a kiss on Hart’s head.

“Hey, dumbass, where’d you get shot?”

Shavain’s voice was soft and light, not holding even a hint of accusation, or that he was even upset. Even Maynard wasn’t entirely sure if it was forced or genuine. Shavain had always been understanding, to the point of being a little scary, at times. It was like he knew the both of them better than they knew themselves. Just like with Maynard, Hart could never really slip anything past him. Or at least, if he did, it was a surprise to all involved.

“....Leg,” Hart said after a moment of silence. “I- _Maynard_ made breakfast.”

Shavi looked up at Maynard for a moment, and it was clear from the brief hint of resigned disapproval in his expression that he’d noticed Hart’s slip. 

“I had a talk with him.”

Hart offered Maynard a brief, wounded puppy stare before dropping his head again.

“I made him promise to at least try to tell us next time.”

“Good.”

Shavain gave Hart a soft squeeze and another kiss, this time on his cheek, before moving to flop down in the chair in front of the plate that had been left for him. True to form, he took to the food ravenously, leaving the table to relative silence again. Hart seemed to be calming down again, now that it seemed clear that Shavi wasn’t going to yell at him either. 

There was a different sort of tension in him, though. One Maynard had seen a few times before. Maybe unpleasant for Hart, but Maynard saw it as a good sign. It was the same tension he saw whenever he and Shavi confronted his views on how they saw him. Proved that they were better than what the world had taught him to expect.

Shavi didn’t take long to demolish the food, not even giving Maynard enough time to finish his coffee, before he put down the knife and fork and looked to Maynard.

“Where do you want to do this?”

Hart made a soft sound of offence in Shavi’s direction for not asking _him_ , but didn’t otherwise complain. Such silence wasn’t in his character, but Maynard still wasn’t too worried.

“Couch. I’ll get a towel to put under him.”

He got up to go get one, fairly sure that the wound would be old enough that a towel would be fine for any mess that might happen. By the time he’d gotten back Shavi and Hart were in the lounge. He paused in the door for a moment, waiting for the gentle kiss to end before stepping in. 

He put the towel down on the couch then turned to Hart.

“Pants. Off.”

Once again the tension he allowed into his voice was of an entirely different nature, and he saw Hart respond to it immediately. He might have been planning to take his time about it, but _that_ command in _that_ voice always tended to provide the desired result. Hart pulled down his pants, Maynard wasn’t surprised to find he wasn’t wearing underwear underneath. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but then he’d been a lot more distracted by the wound. Judging from the soft ‘tut’ from Shavi, that’s where his eyes had went too. 

“I guess you did this yourself,” Shavi said, in a tone closer to a statement than a question.

“Yeah.”

Shavain sighed, then gestured for Hart to sit down on the towel. He put his bag up on it next to him, and Maynard curled up on the other side, leaning their bodies together.

“...Is it going to hurt?”

“Don’t know yet.” 

Shavain’s voice was different now, more business-like. Seeing the switch was still fascinating to Maynard. Most of the time, Shavain was a big goof, like a golden retriever turned into a person. Seeing him get serious, knowing what he _did_ for a living. It just didn’t click, mentally.

His fingers were sure and gentle, though, as he unwrapped the hasty bandage that Hart had applied. Maynard’s eyes couldn’t help but fall to the wound as it was properly revealed, something clenching painfully in his chest at the sight. He shut down the thoughts before they had time to grab hold, though. He knew the pointlessness of worrying about what _could_ have happened. It didn’t help. Sometimes things could be worse, and you could only be grateful that they weren’t.

He closed his eyes for the moment, letting Shavain do what he needed to do. There were a few moments of silence as the man examined it, only punctuated by a soft gasp from Hart when Shavi moved his leg to get a better look at the other side.

“Well the fact that I don’t have to dig a bullet out of you means it’s going to hurt a hell of a lot less than it could have.”

There was a sigh of relief from Hart that didn’t entirely cover Maynard’s own, softer one. He opened his eyes again, resolving not to look at the wound, looking at something else instead. He shifted a bit to get his mouth closer to Hart’s ear, murmuring softly.

“I’ll help.”

He felt the man shudder gently as Maynard wrapped his hand around Hart’s cock. He had no intention of getting the man off any time soon, and Hart would know that the moment he started moving his hand with a slow and almost torturous pace.

Shavi didn’t say anything, but a quick glance at him told Maynard he’d definitely noticed. His eyes lingered a little too long on Hart’s cock, then Hart’s face, before returning to the task at hand. His business face was still on, and Maynard trusted him enough to do what he needed to do even with the distraction.

So Maynard turned his attention fully to Hart, setting his mouth to its own task of raising a mark on the man’s neck. Hart let himself fall into the distraction easily, and though Maynard could still feel an occasional twitch that was pain rather than the pleasure, he was fairly certain he was at least doing what he’d said he would. Helping.

His own desires were mounting, but he was used to ignoring them for a time. He knew they would be sated soon enough. Probably not as roughly as he was used to, but he didn’t have any intention of leaving either of them wanting tonight. Shavi, maybe, but Shavi was Shavi. If he couldn’t find someone to help take the edge off that was his own fault.

Perhaps the man had somehow heard the thought, though, because there was a soft noise sound from his direction.

“You two are being incredibly distracting.”

He’d paused in what he was doing, and Maynard pulled back to look at him. Without entirely intending to, he let his eyes go lidded, giving the man a completely self-satisfied and salacious grin in response.

That finally brought a crack to Shavi’s mask, a look of surprise accompanied by a sharp intake of breath, then a deep pout and an even deeper sigh.

“ _That_. Is fucking cheating.”

Maynard just snorted and returned his attentions back to Hart’s neck. Shavi took a breath to gather himself again and went back to work. 

They continued like that for a while, both Maynard and Shavain largely silent while Hart made soft sounds of pleasure and want. It was only a noise of pain, when Shavi moved his leg so he could start bandaging it up again, that made Maynard realize he might have made a mistake in letting himself get worked up as well. 

Maynard wasn’t exactly the most gentle when it came to the actual fucking. He _could_ do it slow and gentle, when they were both in the mood for that. But right now he had an itch that wouldn’t be scratched just by that. And even if Hart might _want_ to do it anyway, if it hurt bad enough for him to react now, it would probably turn into a very unpleasant time for Hart if Maynard just went to town on him.

So, little as he wanted to, he pulled back from Hart’s neck, taking a moment to admire the bruise he’d made there, before turning his attention to what Shavi was doing. Maybe watching that would help cool him off a bit. He didn’t stop his hand, though, that was for Hart more than himself at the moment.

He watched as Shavain finished bandaging Hart’s leg, a slow frown gathering on his face as he realized it wasn’t helping. Shavain caught his eye when he was finished, the mask slipping away, and he grinned that one grin he had. The one that said ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking.’

“You _know_ ,” Shavain said, the mask falling away in an instant and falling into a slow smirk, his movements becoming more languid. “I think I have an idea that could leave everyone satisfied. Since I don’t think Hart is up to your ministrations tonight.”

There was a much louder noise of protest this time, and clear betrayal in Hart’s expression, but Shavi put a finger up to his mouth to stop him.

“I’m _trying_ to help.”

Shavain looked back at Maynard and purred;

“How about _you_ fuck _me_ as hard as you like, and I can put my mouth to work while he watches?”

There was a brief moment of silence as both Hart and Maynard took that offer in. Maynard glanced at Hart for a moment, and from the look on his face it seemed like he wasn’t going to complain if that was how things turned out. Maynard, however, needed a little longer to think about it.

“You can say no,” Shavi said, pulling the seduction out of his tone long enough to show he was sincere. Not that Maynard would have thought he wasn’t even if he’d kept up the flirting. Shavi was very interested in sex, but Maynard had never once seen him push the matter if someone wasn’t interested.

He had, however, seen Shavi have sex with people _he_ didn’t seem all that interested in. The other half of his profession kind of made that a necessity. And while certain parts of Maynard were definitely all for it, he didn’t want Shavi to only be offering because he wanted to help. They had done sexual things around each other, before, usually both focused on Hart. But this was new.

“Are you sure?”

Shavi grinned at him, slow and easy. 

“I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t, I don’t like to mix business with friendship.”

Hart’s eyes narrowed at that, giving Shavi an accusatory glare.

“You’ve made _me_ pay you.”

“And Maynard’s never barged in on me with a paying customer. Besides, you’re annoying.” Shavain grinned at Hart, then moved to kiss his thigh. Hart huffed.

Maynard kept silent for a few moments longer, still moving his hand almost without thinking. A brush of his thumb across the tip of Hart’s cock brought another soft gasp from him. The accompanying surge of lust helped to make Maynard’s mind up for him. 

“I’ll get my harness.”

“I already have lube,” Shavi singsonged, reaching for his bag again. It made Maynard pause for a second, giving him a flat stare.

“Of course you do.”

Shavi just grinned at him in response, turning his attentions to Hart while he began to remove his shirt. Maynard slipped off to the bedroom, pulling down his pants when he got there. He wasn’t quite up for letting Shavain see him naked, but he also knew that Shavi wouldn’t mind. He slipped the harness onto himself, then pulled his pants back on, grabbing the dildo that went with it.

He hadn’t been gone that long, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised with the sight that greeted him. Shavain certainly had no compunctions about being naked around him. He was already on all fours, using the towel that had been under Hart to cushion his knees. 

His mouth was already working, kissing and nipping along Hart’s inner thighs, teasing him as they waited for Maynard’s return. The expression of impatient _want_ and anticipation on Hart’s face was delicious, but Maynard was quickly distracted by something else. Shavi was propping himself up on one hand, but the other was behind him, already pushing two fingers into himself, stretching himself open.

Maynard had certainly _noticed_ how attractive Shavi was. He was fairly certain most anyone who was attracted to men had. And maybe more than a few who had only _thought_ they weren’t. But in this moment, even though this was mostly about Hart, _for_ Hart, Maynard felt an undeniable surge of lust at the sight.

Shavain turned his head a little when he heard Maynard come back in, tilting his head only enough that he could glance. His mouth was still at work on Hart’s thigh, a slow lick that made the grin on his face even more suggestive.

Maynard moved without thinking, slipping between the open, inviting legs and kneeling behind him. He didn’t interrupt just yet, knowing Shavi would let him know when he was ready. He could be patient enough to wait until it would be pleasurable for the both of them. But he did allow himself a rare touch. He wasn’t used to touching any skin but Hart’s, it was interesting to see the differences in their reactions as his hand trailed down Shavain’s thigh. More pliable, less tense, if only because he didn’t make a habit of denial.

He watched as another finger entered, then looked up at Hart. The man was watching them both intently, staring like he wanted to burn every moment of this into his memory. Their eyes met for a long moment before a soft, needful groan from Shavain drew his attention back down, reminding him that he should probably prepare _himself_ as well.

He undid his pants again, pulling them down just enough for the harness to be accessible. He slipped the dildo into place, tightened everything up, then reached for the lube. He poured some onto his hand then used the other to stroke along Shavain’s hip. There was soft sound, a mixture of appreciation and anticipation.

Maynard made a sound of his own a moment later as he started to stroke the lube onto the dildo. It was one that would give him pleasure as well, when it moved, and he was a little unprepared for the sudden spark of pleasure. The newness of the situation, coupled with the fact that he rarely masturbated on his own (and it had been weeks since Hart had been ‘available’), meant he was quite sensitive. He probably wouldn’t last all that long before he came, but that hardly mattered. There were at least a few advantages to being trans, and the ability for him to have fairly easy, multiple orgasms was definitely one of them.

Shavain finally pulled his fingers free and muttered a soft ‘ready,’ against the skin of Hart’s leg, his mouth close enough to the man’s cock now to just be able to turn and begin licking there instead. Maynard gripped Shavain’s hip firmly and didn’t waste any time in guiding the dildo into him. As he often did, he wished he could actually _feel_ it, but the sight was always good enough to keep that desire from turning into something more ugly. The presence of people who knew him for what he was helped as well.

He leaned forward as he pushed in, placing a small kiss in between the man’s shoulder blades. The gesture of affection felt strange, but at the same time it made it easier to do this. He didn’t know if this would change things between them, but he knew if they did it would be for the better. Shavain wouldn’t allow any awkward feelings to fester between them, sex just seemed to be a fact of life for him, and if there were any feelings that were sparked from this, would that really be a bad thing? They both loved Hart, deeply and without question, and their relationship till now had mostly just been one of mutual affection and respect.

Even if nothing more came out of this, Maynard had to admit he could see himself doing _this_ again. The look on Hart’s face was just too good, and the feeling of such a willing, enthusiastic body beneath him was still intoxicating. Neither of them cared about the things that still made him nervous, their only thought towards it was to be respectful of his limits.

And, well, Shavain knew how to _move_.

The man’s back arched as he was entered, a slow and luxurious movement that was impossible not to watch. Maynard let himself rest a moment there, unable to help his natural tendency to tease and draw out. Shavain was much easier to provoke, it wasn’t long before he gave a soft whine and shifted his hips in a _very_ distracting way. Maynard snorted, then gave his hip a reassuring squeeze.

“Hart.”

Eyes snapped up from Shavain to him in a moment, and Maynard smirked. Then, keeping their eyes locked, he began to move. He could see Hart tempted to look down again as Shavain made a noise, but the power of Maynard’s stare kept his eyes in place.

If things had been a little different, if Maynard had had an ounce more self-control in the moment or a little more desire to use it, he would have teased here as well. A slow build-up that probably would have driven both Hart and Shavain mad. But what they all wanted, almost _needed_ in that moment was something more immediate. Rougher.

So Maynard worked the pace up quickly, gripping Shavain’s hips with both hands. He didn’t want to look down, but thankfully Shavi was making more than enough noise to help him know that it was good for him as well. He didn’t want to put Shavi through any discomfort, but it was clear from the noises he was making that he was more than happy with the rough treatment.

Maynard did wonder if the movement might make it difficult for Shavi to do what he’d said he would, but he shouldn’t have worried. It seemed Shavain had a plan for how to deal with the rough jerking motions. One arm lifted up, draping over Hart’s uninjured leg and around his waist, using the other man - and the couch - as an anchor. His body moved as well, shifting with the rough thrusts to keep the worst of it from Hart. He really was a professional.

It was a shame, though, that the angle didn’t let him see as much as he would have liked as Shavi took Hart’s cock into his mouth. Maybe one day he would ask to watch as Shavain used that mouth of his.

He didn’t need to _see_ it though, apparently. Because when Shavain started to move down, moving far past the point where most people would find resistance, Maynard felt the first orgasm sweep over him. He groaned, his fingers tightening and causing Shavi to tense for a moment, the happy sound he gave made it clear that it wasn’t a bad thing.

Hart twitched, he knew what it looked like when Maynard came, and it was clear it was only the extensive training they had both put his body through that stopped him from doing the same. The noises Shavi was making probably didn’t help things either. The reaction from the vibrations had been something that had helped Maynard become more vocal during sex, he knew the effect they had. He’d even felt it a few times, in the very rare occasions he’d allowed Hart to use his own mouth down there.

“Can you wait for Shavain?” Maynard asked breathlessly. If he hadn’t disappeared so recently he wouldn’t have to ask, he could just demand, but it was always hardest for him the first night back.

Hart whined and nodded, one hand making a fist against the couch, the other twisting into Shavain’s hair, doing his best to keep it relaxed enough not to interfere with the steady bobbing of the man’s head.

“Good.”

Maynard then turned his attention back to Shavain, picking his pace back up to that almost brutal speed. He let his eyes wander, now, between Shavain’s back, what his head was doing, then occasionally lifting to catch Hart’s eyes and holding him for a little while. 

Yes, this was definitely something he could see himself doing again.

He was approaching another peak when he saw Shavi’s arm shift, tapping Hart lightly on the back in warning. Once again, Maynard couldn’t feel it, but he could _see_ it as Shavain came, the man showing it in his whole body. Maynard wasn’t sure if it was just how he reacted or if the man was putting on a show just for him, but either way he appreciated the sight.

His eyes flicked up just in time to catch sight of Hart’s face as he came as well, gasping then crying out as he spent. It was enough to push Maynard over the edge as well, and he rode it out with that same pace, only slowing to a stop once it had passed.

Shavain finally pulled away with a soft gasp, and they all had to take a few moments, panting and trying to catch their breath. Maynard leaned in close again, pressing himself for a moment against the warmth of Shavi’s back.

“Thank you,” he muttered softly, as close to Shavain’s ear as he could really manage.

“ _Any_ time, Maynard,” Shavain responded, still sounding winded but very pleased with himself. Maynard grinned, pulling back and carefully pulling out of him. He glanced up at Hart, who was looking at them as if he hadn’t quite finished processing what had just happened. Maynard smirked.

“The shower is free if you want it, Shavi.”

Shavain shifted, stretching in a way that would have been far too distracting a few minutes ago. 

“Too lazy. A damp towel will do me fine,” Shavi turned to grin at him, then looked vaguely concerned for a moment. “Uh, a warm one, if you could.”

Maynard snorted indelicately at that, getting to his feet. He paused only for a moment, giving Hart a soft, lingering kiss, before heading off to get the towel for Shavain, and to get himself back in order as well.

It didn’t take long, and he gave Shavain the towel, unable to help but watch as Shavain cleaned himself in a rather efficient and habitual manner. He left again to toss it and the other towel into the laundry hamper. By the time he got back Shavain was clothed again, curled up on the couch beside Hart.

The pair of them looked content to laze about, and Maynard was willing to leave them that way. He bustled about for a little longer, turning on a movie that wouldn’t take any brain-power to watch, getting drinks and snacks so that none of them would have to move again for a few hours.

Then he settled on the other side of Hart, taking care not to touch the wound on his leg, pulling a blanket over their laps and curling in against him. Quiet moments like these just as good as the sex, in his opinion. And he was discovering they were even nicer with Shavi there too.

It felt like home.


End file.
